Bound & Determined
Page 2
Mike put me through a variety of poses, which he shot from
different angles. After about 20 minutes and a lot of pictures, he called a break. I stood
up and did some yoga stretches while Mike went over to the table. I was feeling pretty
good about myself. I liked this posing; I found it relaxing and it took my mind off all my
little problems. It was also easy work and I would be well-paid for it. Then Mike came
back holding a pair of handcuffs.
"Whoa!" I said, my voice tremulous and heart pounding. "What are they
for?"
Mike saw the fright in my eyes and he spoke to me very gently. "They're only a
pair of handcuffs," he said. "A prop."
"A Prop!" I nearly shouted. "I thought a prop was a vase or a beachball.
I didn't sign up for anything sick like this."
"There isn't anything sick about it," he said calmly. "Many of my
clients like to see pictures of women tied up or in bondage. What's wrong with that? No
one gets hurt. Here. Take a look at these."
Mike went behind the cameras to a cabinet in the corner where he picked up a photo
album and brought it back to me. It was filled with pictures of beautiful women bound and
gagged. Others were in chains or wrapped in plastic or tape. I was shocked. I put the
album down and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling in disgust. He suggested I look at the
models' faces. I reluctantly followed his suggestion and re-opened the album. This time I
looked closely at the pictures and I saw that none of the models showed any real pain or
fear, although some were obviously acting. No matter how these women were restrained, they
didn't appear to be under actual duress. Many of them had beautiful smiles if they weren't
gagged, and if they were they still didn't look unhappy. As I leafed through the album a
third time I realized the models actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. After I put
the book down, I realized my body was less rigid than when I had first picked it up. I
turned to Mike and stared at him.
"I'm sorry, Cathryn," Mike apologized. "I thought you understood about
the pictures I sell, but I can see I should have been more explicit. I'm not trying to
pull a fast one on you. There's just been a misunderstanding. There's nothing for you to
worry about; I'm a legitimate businessman. Look, if you don't want to do this, I'll pay
you for the time you've already put in and you can leave now."
The mention of money plus his business-like manner made me pause and I started to think
that maybe I was being hasty. Mike believed Irma knew I was with him; I was getting well
paid and this was just a business. After some more thought, I dropped my shoulders in
surrender and said, "OK, Mike. Go ahead."
Mike smiled and reached for my left wrist, which he locked within a shiny cuff of
steel. A rigid steel bar joined this cuff to the other one in which he locked my right
wrist. The key for the locks hung from Mike's key ring. Following his directions I lifted
my bound limbs in supplication to an unseen "Master;" I stretched my arms over
my head to display my "charms;" and I smiled gamely when I playfully tugged at
my manacles.
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